I love the architecture of the written word…its beauty, its ugliness, its soul. I write to release the inner voices.
In a FANTASY LIFE…I am a guitar player with a soulful voice that loves to sing in lounges, dive bars, and pubs. I have an encyclopediac knowledge of the film industry and swoon over the Wachowski brothers, Keanu Reeves, and movies made from Marvel comics. My boyfriend is a biker with a soft-side who reads classic literature, loves my poetry and paints on canvas things so beautiful I weep. He sings made-up corny lyrics to old melodies in the morning while I growl for my 1st cup of coffee. He “experiments” in the kitchen and has a mutt from the pound named Sugar. He dances when nobody is looking. I write him love letters in Latin and he spends a week deciphering them. When we do nothing but sit on the couch together he always has my body cupped under his arm and, every now and again, bends down to kiss the top of my head.
Enuf of that. Read. Comment. Carry on.
You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you. Ray Bradbury
And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom. ~Anais Nin
Books are the fire to frozen souls. ~mstrace
When a writer starts with one truth, they have offered us the world ~butchart
mstrace hosts Pleasure & Pain and is a member of All Out Emotion, All Things Poetic, Artistic, Philosophical, Art Deco Heaven, Blue Room, Body of Work, California Sound , Falling Leaves, Friends of RedBubble, Graphic Scratch, in-between, Kustom Kulture, Redbubble Devils, Sci Fi , Short stories - Spherical Scriptings, The Adult Group, The Sensual Word and The Word Tree.
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every / single / time / I wake in a sweat / with the ghost of you inside me
...clinging to his wordless silhouette
You embed your trust into an anvil and tie it to my guts.
they’d glisten / like juice, like rubies / daring to be found / but they’re gone / like a crevice in my flesh / gone
heavy-lidded and craving another and another and another / wild orbital swing, at the center of you.
Because I crave the crave it creates in my fingers / it’s that dark need for a muse / the search for signs of life / inside myself / inside others